Warning: Matt/Mello shonen-ai lemonyish thing.

---

Today is Matt's eighteenth birthday, he's officially legal now, and this makes him happy. He gets up with a "Nurr…" on the opposite end of my room- no, our room- and runs over to the calendar, checking, checking. I know (of course I know, I've been his best friend for thirteen years) that he's counting the hours, the minutes, the seconds now until it is exactly the time he has picked for his birthday. None of us (us, the Wammy's kids, us, the genius orphans brought to be the next L) know our real birthdates.

Matt has chosen a good day for his, and now he is jumping around yelling and screaming and exploding my face off with his joy. (Well, I don't blame him.) He is eighteen, he no longer has to take residence in Wammy's house, he can do pretty much whatever he wants.

I am nineteen. A few months older than him, he whined and wheedled and protested being dragged to my birthday party (where I got staggeringly drunk and he watched me puke it all off the next morning in the sink) and now he is bouncing off the walls with glee.

We go to breakfast. He is still ridiculously happy (is he on some sort of birthday drug?) and as he grandly walks into the room he trips on Near. His shirt rides up in the back and I quickly look away (of course I don't trust myself, I've lived with him for thirteen years and have resisted it for this long, who knows when I might snap). Near is sitting there, staring at Matt with those big black soul-searching eyes of his. He apologizes, ("Sorry, Matt. Happy birthday.") and scoots off in a rush. Matt picks himself up carefully (again, I am careful not to let my emotions get the better of me) and carries on to the table.

We munch steadily through breakfast, Matt is nearly glowing with utter happy, and (since it is a Saturday) we go back to Matt's room and play Mario Party for a few solid hours.

---

He is exhausted. I pat his back and leave to go get some Red Bull and pretzels (the best gamer-refueling agent ever invented) from the kitchen. It doesn't take long, and when I come back he is sitting at my desk (MY desk? He never sits there!) whistling some random song and twirling my spinny chair.

It is so adorable I want to have him right then and there. But I don't, I take a deep breath and will myself to calm down as he unfolds himself (how does he get in those utterly contorted positions?) and sits back down on his beanbag with his Red Bull.

He has pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, I notice, making his brilliant green eyes shine out from his face, and is babbling on about Metal Gear Solid 4 (whatever, just look at me again) and the Wii and…other gamer stuff that I have no intention of knowing. I nod and smile anyway.

He turns around, back to the N64 that he resurrected, and I go over to my closet and take out his gift. "Hey," I call to him, and he turns (those eyes!) and the effect is almost overflowing and I have to grab my bedframe to keep from taking him right there.

He runs over (bad idea- I clutch the bed harder) and sits beside me. "What?" he asks, and I realize how low his voice is, I can see the stubble (he needs to shave) on his chin, and I hand the bag over with a little flourish.

He rips it apart like an angry wolf. "NO WAY!" he shrieks (yes, literally shrieks, like a fangirl) as he holds up a shiny jewel case. It is the game he has been fangirling over for weeks now, and I am strangely shocked that he doesn't own it yet. Okami. He is hugging that game so hard I am afraid he might break it.

And then he turns that same affection to me.

I am instantly on guard. He tackles me, hugs me, smiles, and suddenly (the hormones are buzzing) I lean forward and peck him on the cheek. He doesn't react at first. I do it again.

This time there is a definite change in the tone of his hugging. And suddenly (so, so slowly, though…like a snail making its way across the page) he turns his face to mine and we are kissing.

Really kissing, not that peck-on-the-cheek nonsense I was attempting a minute ago. This is what I've been dreaming of for four years, full frontal kissage, his hands entangled in my hair.

We fall onto the bed with a thump, and he is on top of me, our lips struggling for dominance and his taste his smell his…self is overwhelming. We break for barely a second to breathe, and suddenly I can feel his tongue (pink and soft and wet) against my lip and I don't know what to do, so I do everything at once and open my mouth and OH.

His tongue is mingling with mine, his taste suddenly rushing in my mouth and I decide that he tastes very, very good. And we kiss and kiss and suddenly I realize his hand is moving up my shirt.

This is a new development that I am not ready for, but I surrender and find (where is my brain?) that I don't care right now, all I want is more of that taste (cigarettes and sweat and sugar and lust rolled into one) and he gives it to me. My shirt is now on the floor, and he moves his mouth down from mine to my neck and bites softly. I groan, a sound I never knew I could even make (was I the uke?) and Matt smiles that smile that makes me crazy and does it again.

I wiggle under him, and he straddles me (really? Is this happening?) and kisses up my chest slowly. I can feel a blush rising to my cheeks, it's not something that usually happens to me. Matt is blushing too, and suddenly I realize that I am breathing heavily and that is Matt's cue to brush his hands across my nipples. I arch off of the bedspread and he giggles and suddenly this all seems like some sort of happy dance we are doing.

He is at my bellybutton now, poking his tongue in and out and in of it again, and I am wild-eyed and practically foaming at the mouth, a distinct lump in my jeans, and suddenly there is a knock at the door and we practically fly away to our separate beds and hide our lower halves.

"Come in," Matt calls, and it is that damned fuzzy sheep Near at the door spoiling my (our) happiness. He staggers in and for a moment I am wondering what it would be like to see Near spread out below me like I was for Matt, and the next the thought is gone and I am realizing that I am incredibly horny and I need to get rid of this problem right now.

I quickly make my way to the bathroom, Near is talking to Matt (mine. Not his.) and so I have plenty cover to make short work of my problem.

When I finally clean up the mess, flush the toilet, and emerge, Matt has his goggles back on and Near is telling us to go to the dinner room because there is cake and sweet things.

We trudge down the hallway, the awkward silence beginning to descend over us, and suddenly Matt says, "We'll finish that later." I nearly stop in my tracks, nearly fall over with the amount of pure lust that just shot into my bloodstream. But I don't, and we keep walking, Near trying to make small talk and just ending up babbling about Transformers.

When we get to the dining hall, there is a huge cheer of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATT!" from everyone and Matt is suddenly the center of attention, which he doesn't really like to be, so he obligingly blows out the candles (I see him throw a glance at me that nearly brings me to my knees) and cuts everyone a slice of cake.

He is about to come over and sit beside me at my table, but Roger swoops down and hands both of us (the oldest orphans, the last of an older generation) two glasses of champagne and tells us to go out to a club, 'cause that's what all the cool kids do.

We drink our champagne slowly, enjoying the cake, and go back to our room to change. Outside, we hail a taxi and tell the driver the address of a club that Roger has given us. I hope to God it isn't some creepy stripper lounge but as we pull up it's just a rave. We pay the driver and get out, and stand in front of the building for a minute.

Matt suddenly grabs my hand and pulls me into the club with him, and we head straight to the bar. Matt slaps two twenty-dollar bills onto the bar. "This is our tab." The bartender nods, writing down our names and our money down on a receipt. Matt orders some sort of drink I've never heard of (how did he know that?) and hands me something that looks like a ridiculous milkshake. "What is this?" I ask, and he shrugs, saying something like "Mudslide" but I can't hear him over the pounding of the bass.

After two or three of those, I am pleasantly buzzing, and Matt is nearly to the point of falling over. We dance for a while, but it isn't fun because I'm constantly picking him up off of the couches scattered around. We leave.

Matt is quite inebriated when we get back, having taken another drink "to go", and leans on me heavily in the taxi. I have no idea what is going to happen (is he going to puke on me? Oh, god, please no.) but then the taxi pulls over at the gate and we get out.

Matt needs help keeping his feet straight, I lug him up the steps and into our room, then plop him on the bed.

Suddenly he sits up. "Thanks for putting up with that, Mello."

"Wha- You were faking?" I ask, eyes wide.

"Yeah. I only had two real drinks, rest were all non-alcoholic."

"…So…"

A second passes before suddenly Matt is smashing his lips on mine, and we begin again, and I don't know why it feels so good to have his body on mine, and his taste in my mouth, and oh…we are moving together, and usually when you're drunk you're not graceful at all but this is the definition of grace and suddenly my shirt is off, his shirt is off, he is kissing down, down, down, down…my pants are gone, I reach up and kiss him again and take off his goggles, and his emerald eyes gaze into mine, and then his pants are off, and then…well, then…

---

I wake up the next morning and Matt is beside me, and I can see his chest (warm, soft, pink) is bare and so is the rest of him and I have a pain in my rear. It takes me a minute to recover the memories, and I blush realizing that we did, indeed, finish it. Matt shifts in his sleep and wraps his arms around me, strong arms that I never knew were hidden behind that gamer façade. His body is nicely muscled, not overly so, and I suddenly remember what that body could do and blush.

Matt groans and wakes up with a sigh. "Hi." he says, hugging me close and kissing my cheek. "How are you?"

"Fine," I reply, smiling. He turns me around so we are chest to chest, and he kisses me again, on the lips, and I realize that I want more. We start again, and it takes much less time this time around because we already know the spots that light us on fire from the inside, and by the time I am released into the light it's only six o'clock and we can make it to breakfast. He pulls out of me with a groan, and I want to say something about the time but my tongue is gone. We sleep.

---

First lemon/lime/citrus I've ever written. There will be more. More chapters, that is.

Review?